Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
GRIFF
The sheer relief on Phil’s face makes me want to hunt down every single person who treated him like shit. Especially if they were people who knew better.
But I’m pretty sure me making a big deal about it will just upset him, so I keep that thought to myself and inwardly hope one of them happens to cross my path in the future. Maybe Calla’s got a list of names. She seems like the type who’d appreciate my thirst for vengeance.
Once Phil and I settle at the table, Vivi loses interest and wanders off. I’m super strict about not feeding her from the table—though less strict about feeding her from my plate when I eat in front of the TV—so she knows she’s not getting any food while we eat.
“This is good,” Phil says after the first mouthful. “Especially for a quick weeknight meal. I’m jealous of your skills.”
Pleasure settles inside me. “I’ll cook for you anytime,” I promise. It wouldn’t make me mad if he came over every night… and stayed for breakfast.
He turns slightly pink, which delights me. Is he thinking the same thing I am? I hope so. Clearing his throat, he says, “So… am I going to be lucky enough to hear your nephew sing to Vivi tonight?”
I snort. “You may change your mind about it being lucky, but yeah. In about twenty minutes or so, probably.”
“This will sound weird, but I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t been around little kids since I was one, but they’re cute on TV.”
My laugh is so unexpected that I choke on food and barely avoid spraying it all over the table. Phil leaps up to thwack me on the back as I cough and splutter to clear my airway. It’s a minute before I’m breathing more or less normally again, and I look up with watery eyes at his worried face.
“I’m so, so sorry,” he starts, but I wave him off.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” I freeze. The endearment slipped out unplanned, and I’m not sure how he feels about them. Is it too early in our relationship? It’s our first date, and we’ve barely even kissed. Even if those kisses were phenomenal.
“I like that,” he murmurs. “Though, just so you know, I’m not that sweet.” The wicked glance he gives me as he goes back to his seat leaves me in no doubt about his meaning.
“Lucky me.”
My phone rings just as we’re getting up to clear the plates, and Vivi comes racing in.
Pavlov would be thrilled to witness her reaction.
I let her jump up onto one of the kitchen chairs and set my phone on the table so she and Carter can do their thing and Phil can listen in while I wash up.
From his wide grin, he thinks it’s adorable—though his wince when Carter gets particularly off-key assures me that his opinion of my nephew’s singing skills aligns with mine.
After a minute, he comes over to the sink, picks up a dish towel, and begins drying the wok I just washed. I give him a stern frown and shake my head, but I guess I no longer intimidate him in any way, because he just blows me a kiss and gets on with it. Can’t say I’m sad about that.
Finally, Carter finishes his song, which I swear must be a deluxe extended version because it seems to go on forever, and declares, “Night, Uncle Griff! Mom wants to talk to you.”
“Night, buddy.” I turn off the tap and go grab my phone.
“Griff?” Penny says.
“Hey, Pen. You’re on speaker—say hi to Phil.”
“Hello,” Phil calls.
“Hi, uh… Phil. It’s nice to meet you.” Penny sounds a little uncertain and a little excited. She always wants to know if I’ve met anyone, or even if I’ve been going out and socializing. My baby sister is the world’s worst worrywart.
“Likewise,” Phil tells her. “Vivi and your son have a very cute routine going.”
Penny laughs. “Oh my god, they so do. Carter couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but it’s still the sweetest thing ever. I hope he didn’t interrupt your evening.”
Hah. I know a fishing expedition when I hear it, so I answer before Phil can, “It’s still early. What can I do for you, Pen? Do you need me to go into the other room?”
“No, I just wanted to remind you about Christmas. Are you going to stay with your friend?”
“I booked a hotel so Vivi and I can relax and not worry about needing to be good guests.” It ended up being a splurge, but I’m not sorry. I could have found something cheaper, but I don’t usually live large, and I like the idea of doing something a little special for the holidays.
“A hotel? Oh, but—”
“That’s what I want, Penny. I’m looking forward to it.” I make my voice firm so she knows I’m not going to argue about it, and my reward is a sigh.
“Fine, I guess. Phil, are you doing anything fun for the holidays?”
The hopeful implication is heavy, and I roll my eyes even as Phil grins.
“My partner and I are spending it with friends,” he says, and from the way Penny hesitates, she’s not sure if he means romantic partner or something else, and she’s too polite to ask.
He winks at me, and I know he did it on purpose.
I wonder how he feels about being rewarded with kisses.
Penny finally says something noncommittal about that sounding nice, then wishes us goodnight and hangs up. I toss my phone back onto the table, sweep Phil into my arms, and kiss him soundly.
“Mmm,” he murmurs when I finally pull back. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought that on?”
“Helping me get one up on my sister. It doesn’t happen often.”
He chuckles. “Happy to be of service. She sounds great, by the way. You’re lucky to have a sister like that.”
There’s a note of something in his voice that makes me pretty sure any siblings he has aren’t as supportive as Penny, and I mentally add them to the list of potential enemies I might need to vanquish if he one day asks.
“Super lucky,” I agree. “There was a rocky patch while she was with her ex, who was the biggest indictment of humanity as a species that’s ever been born, but thankfully he’s out of the picture now and we have things fully back on track.”
He pulls a face. “Ugh, maintaining relationships when the people you love have shitty taste in partners sucks. Calla once dated this woman who I swear to god seemed to hate her. I couldn’t work out why the hell they were together.”
My brows draw together. “That must have been hard for you.”
“Meh.” He shrugs. “Frustrating, more than anything. I hated seeing her with someone who didn’t get how awesome she is. I think it damaged her confidence too. She hasn’t really designed much herself since then.”
That reminds me. “On the subject of work…”
He smiles understandingly at me. “Griff, I would never pressure you to bring clients to us.”
My brows shoot up. “I never thought you would.” Hell, I had to talk him into showing Daria the jeans.
He has too much integrity to use me that way.
“But if we’re going to date, I need to disclose that to Damian.
Is that okay with you, or would you prefer that I wait?
” I try not to make it obvious that I’m holding my breath.
If he says to wait, does that mean he’s not sure if—
“That’s fine with me. Do you want me to come with you? Or I could call Damian….” He frowns, thinking about the implications. “Maybe I should wait for him to call me.”
“That’s probably best. He won’t be mad, but he might ask for oversight of any commissions I bring to you for a while.” That’s what he’s done in the past in similar situations, just so nobody can make any accusations later on.
Phil doesn’t look thrilled by the idea that being with me means I might be supervised more closely at work, but he nods.
“It’s your job, so whatever you think is necessary, I’m on board with.
Now…” He grabs my hand and begins drawing me toward the living room.
“That couch of yours looked very comfy.”
“What’s with you this morning?” Adam demands, appearing beside me so suddenly, I almost spill my coffee. He leans against my desk and glares at me.
“What do you mean?” I carefully set my cup down. Aside from the fact that wasting coffee would ruin my entire day, the last thing I want is to spill it on my Philipp Plein jeans and then walk into a meeting with Damian.
“What do you mean, what do I mean? I’ve been talking to you for five minutes and you didn’t even notice!”
Has he? Oops. “Sorry. What were you saying?”
It’s too late to redirect him, though—he’s caught the scent. “Don’t worry about it. What’s got you so distracted?”
“Nothing.”
He gives me a disbelieving look, but I don’t feel the need to say anything else. That doesn’t stop him, though… he just changes tack.
“You’ve been staring at Damian’s door all morning…,” he muses. “Either you’re secretly in love with him, you’ve fucked up bad, or you’ve got a lead on a superhot client. Please tell me it’s the first one.”
I stare at him, deadpan. He stares back hopefully. We’re into minute three of that when the sound of Damian’s door opening has me swiveling to look. Sure enough, Sharon is finally leaving his office after what had to be an hours-long meeting.
“Definitely love,” Adam declares, but I don’t bother to reply. I’m already walking away. Besides, he’s not entirely wrong—it’s just not Damian I might be falling in love with. Or at least, that’s what I’d say if it wasn’t too early to tell.
I rap on the doorframe and then hover as Damian looks up. “Griff, hey, come in. Hope you’ve got something fun for me.”
Great. I step inside and close the door, and when I turn back to face him, his gaze is on it. We don’t usually close the door.
“Like that, is it? You’re not leaving, are you?”
I scoff, and he smiles in relief. Why would I leave?
I get that most stylists at my level run their own businesses, but that brings a whole lot of non-fashion stuff, like Damian’s accounting meeting this morning.
I get plenty of autonomy here, I have colleagues to consult with when I’m stuck, and someone else handles the bulk of the admin.
Maybe I’ll change my mind in a decade or so, but for now, I’m all good.
He leans back in his chair as I sit across from him. “What’s up, then?”
I square my shoulders and wish I was standing. “I’ve started dating Phil.”
For a second he just stares at me blankly. “Okay? Congratulations. I didn’t know you were— Wait. Phil who?”
“Phil Marchand.”
His mouth drops open. I wait for him to process the news before I ask what the next steps are.
“You… He… But… Okay. Wow. This isn’t what I expected you to say.”
“Hm.” It’s as close to a grunt as I can let myself get in this kind of meeting. Damian probably wouldn’t care, but I can’t bring myself to grunt at my boss while telling him I have a personal relationship with a designer I’m working with.
“When did this happen? Last I heard, you were mad that he was right and you were wrong. I never even got the vibe that you were interested in him.”
I swallow hard. As much as I like my colleagues, I rarely discuss my personal life with them.
Casual stuff like what I did on a weekend, sure, but not my romantic feelings.
Damian does have a right to some information, though, since I’m blurring professional lines, and to be with Phil, I’m willing to make myself a little uncomfortable.
“I wasn’t at first,” I admit, then correct, “Well, I thought he was hot. But that’s it.
Then we exchanged a couple of emails, some text messages…
” I huff a laugh. “I don’t need to tell you how great he is.
The more we talked, the more I liked him, and last night we had dinner and decided we wanted to… you know…” I shrug. “See each other.”
Damian nods slowly but doesn’t say anything.
“He knows I’m having this conversation with you,” I add. “Neither of us would ever use our personal relationship to—”
My boss holds up a hand. “No, I know that. You and Phil are both honorable people. I don’t have any doubt about that.” He pulls a face. “That doesn’t mean I don’t need to make sure all bases are covered.”
I nod. “Yeah, I figured.”
“Thank you for telling me. I’ll need to tell Sharon and the lawyer. There’s a disclosure form you need to complete, as well, so everything is officially on record. Which clients have you pulled stuff for from Phallacy?”
“Margaret and Daria.”
“You need to tell both of them and make sure they know they can speak to me if they have concerns.” He pulls another face. “I doubt they will. It’s not like we hold our clients down and force them to wear things.”
“Margaret was the one who requested I reach out to Phallacy, so I can’t be accused of impropriety there. I’ll still tell her, though. And Daria’s so in love with the top they’re making her that even if this was something that would normally bother her, she won’t care.”
Damian spreads his hands. “Then we’re good. You tell them—and any future clients you pull from Phallacy for—we’ll get the paperwork on file, and that should be the end of it.”
I sigh in relief and barely keep myself from sagging in the chair. “Thanks, Damian.”
He leans forward. “One question.”
I brace myself.
“Can I tell Kane?”